


when you're not alone

by FancifulRivers



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Asriel Has His Own Body, Bedtime Stories, Chara (Undertale) Has Their Own Body, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Neglect, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 22:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15851025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancifulRivers/pseuds/FancifulRivers
Summary: Bedtime is always better with a story.





	when you're not alone

"Mom, Chara wants a story," Frisk, the traitor, says. You shoot them a dirty look beneath your bangs, finagling a way to kick them under the sheets. They barely even wince. Instead, they give you a smug smile. It figures.

"I'm sure both of you would like a story," Mom says, in a very diplomatic way. She settles down in the rocking chair beside the bed and it creaks beneath her weight. You hope it doesn't decide to break. It's been reinforced twice. Most human furniture isn't really built for Boss Monsters, you've all discovered.

This bed is. This bed can fit Mom, you, Frisk, and have room to spare. Like for Azzy, but Azzy's spending the night at Dad's. You could have gone, too, but in a rare moment of tact, decided not to. It's probably good for him to have guy nights with his dad, where it's just him and Asgore. You know you like it when you get your own time with him, and when you get solitary time with Mom. That doesn't happen as often, though, because of Frisk. 

"Let's see, which story would be acceptable for bedtime," Mom ponders aloud, tapping her chin.

"Not the one with snail facts," you say immediately. "Last time you read that one, I dreamed about them." You shudder.

"What's wrong with that?" Frisk asks.

"Hey, snails are okay, but I still don't want to dream about them," you say. Mom raises an eyebrow, but agrees that anything about snails is out.

"Fluffy bunny?" Is her next suggestion.

"Fluffy bunny!" Frisk exclaims, clapping their hands. You groan, slumping theatrically against the pillows with your arm flopped over your eyes.

" _Fluffy bunny?_ " You repeat. "Isn't that Papyrus's favorite?"

"So?" Frisk asks.

"Fine," you grumpily acquiesce, burrowing down into the blankets until only the tip of your nose sticks out over the edge. Mom grabs the well-worn book, flipping it open to the first page.

"Peek a Boo with Fluffy Bunny," Mom reads. You let your mind drift as you listen to the familiar story. After you chowed down on buttercups to try and save the monsters, you never would have expected your life to end up like this. You still don't know how your soul attached to Frisk's when they fell down, or how you got your own body back when the barrier broke. Or how Azzy kept his. It makes your head hurt to think about for too long.

You immediately ended up in Mom's custody. And Dad's. They have joint custody of you and Azzy because you both count as monsters now. You've been dead for so long, it wasn't like you could show up as human again and truthfully, you prefer it that way. Your monster family has never locked you outside "accidentally" all night, or used a belt on you, or decided you didn't  _really_ need dinner, right? You  _trust_ Toriel and Asgore and Azzy and Frisk as much as you trust anyone, and that's more trust than you've ever had in your whole entire life.

You share a room with Frisk, but it's by choice now. You could have had your own room. At any time, you still can. Mom's told you that the guest room is always yours if you decide you'd prefer to have your own space like Azzy. You know he still has "Flowey moments," as he's dubbed them, and he likes to be alone when they happen.

Frisk's hand sneaks up, fingers carding through your hair, and you relax into their touch, watching Mom's face as she finishes the last few pages of Fluffy Bunny. The lamp casts warm, yellow light on her features, and you catch yourself yawning, hiding it behind one careless hand.

"The end," Mom says softly. She stands, leaning over both of you and giving you quick forehead kisses. "Good night, my children."

"Good night," you and Frisk chorus. The lamp stays on, as neither of you can handle the dark, but she dims it a little as she leaves the room, closing the door part-way behind her.

"Good night, dweeb," you tell Frisk. They just laugh at you.

When you fall asleep, your dreams are full of nothing but happiness and the soft, comforting knowledge that you are loved.


End file.
